The smoke from cigarettes
by Wica
Summary: Christophe and Gregory are having another fight between them, two fights actually; one which Gregory loses and the other that turns out a draw.


I had fun writing this one, but please have this in mind when reading: I have never written a fighting scene before. This was, honestly, my first try at it. It was fun, yes, but oh my, so hard to write. Please tell me what you think of it.

Disclaiming the ownership of South Park.

Warning: Violence, making out scenes, mention of sex, homosexual feelings.

The smoke from cigarettes

Christophe tugged harshly at the hem of Gregory's shirt, pulling the other man closer Christophe. Foreheads were put against each other and eyes stared darkly. The blonde's expression was although much calmer than Christophe's, it was almost as if his lips was on the edge of tugging itself into a smirk. Was he mocking him? Christophe, however, was not even close to smiling. He was pissed off, mostly for no reason, mostly just because Gregory existed in his life. Please pay in mind that this simple sentence can be defined in many different definitions.

His hand gripping Gregory's shirt clenched hard, hurting himself in the progress with his nails digging into the palm of his hand through the fabric, not that he paid it any thought; Gregory was so far unharmed. He inhaled smoke angrily, his free hand removing the cigarette that was placed between his dry lips and then blew the smoke at Gregory's face. Aside from shutting his eyes for a brief moment as to protect him from the toxic, Gregory did not flinch. He didn't even try showing the other man away from him, declaring that his dirty face was far too close for his liking. Damn clean freak, that was what he was! He dropped the cigarette on the ground and stomped on it, confirming that he dug it firmly under a thin layer of dirt.

Then the moment came, when his fist finally met Gregory's jaw. The blonde fell backwards thanks to the sudden motion and power from the hit, but the hand of Christophe's, which had yet let go of the shirt for even a second, held him firmly in place against his body. He tugged the blonde back towards him only to smash his forehead against Gregory's. Now Christophe did actually let go of Gregory who bend over to face the muddy ground beneath, rubbing his hand against his injured forehead while groaning in pain. A nice bruise would appear later. Not so very nice according to Gregory however, but who gives a flying fuck about what he thinks?

"God dammit! What the bloody hell do you think you're do-?" Gregory didn't get enough time to finish the sentence before the other kneed him in stomach. The blonde gasped from the, not entirely unexpected, impact and finally fell towards the ground. If it weren't for his hands that still kept him above the ground, he'd be lying in the dirt, ruining his not-so-very-clean shirt further. Before him, Christophe stood proudly; still he didn't smile, but to make Gregory kneel beneath him was indeed a pleasant feeling. It was amusing to say the least, and a nice view at that.

Gregory glared up at Christophe, spitting on the ground in disgust and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

"Christophe, why the hell are you looking for a fight? What makes you want to fight me?" Christophe didn't reply, what would he say when he honestly wasn't sure of the answer himself? His only reason for this was because he was pissed off. Why, he didn't actually know. Instead of giving the Brit an excuse for his actions, he continued the staring contest with Gregory, feeling confident enough to win this one.

Though it didn't last long since he got bored with simply staring, it's too unexciting for his part; he pulled out his package of cigarettes. His slightly bruised slim fingers pulled one out, placed it between his lips and lit it with a match, which later was thrown away. He inhaled, kneeled down to Gregory who still hadn't pulled himself up from the ground. He gripped Gregory's chin harshly and blew once again smoke in his face. Gregory didn't flinch this time either; the pain he felt when Christophe gripped his already injured jaw was hurting, yes, though he hid it well. This only seemed to piss Christophe off further as his grip on Gregory only hardens.

Although he felt like fighting with Gregory with words this time, screaming and accusing each other, he didn't feel like talking. For once he actually shut up, and so did Gregory.

They just stared at each other, Gregory bend over on the ground and Christophe hunched down before him sucking on his cigarette which rapidly reduced into a small butt of afterglow. The dark haired one threw the butt away without taking his eyes of Gregory.

After some moments of silence and staring Gregory felt tired of this contest, but because of Christophe's still hard grip on his chin he felt like he wasn't allowed to get up from the ground. If he did, he'd risk pissing Christophe off further and that simply wasn't worth it, so he didn't bother to. Although, he did speak up:

"Christophe, come on, let me up. You know very well how much I dislike dirt, especially on this shirt which is incredibly difficult to wash and, my god, was it bloody expensive," he said with a tired sigh; when he said so he automatically lost their fight, letting the other know he'd won by closing his eyes when sighing. Although he couldn't care less about the staring contest and him losing it; Christophe on the other hand took this as a great victory and actually grinned.

"I win again beetch. You are fucking nuthin' compared to me," Christophe said, still grinning at Gregory who looked at him unamused and annoyed. This however didn't mean Christophe had stopped being pissed off; his anger had just calmed down a bit, _a huge bit_, during the silent staring contest.

Gregory sighed, still not moving from his spot, his torso was in all honesty still a little too sore to move after Christophe's direct blow from earlier.

Another silence was held, oh, these beloved silent moments. Christophe slowly but surely leaned closer to Gregory, who at first frowned at him, but let the Mole do as he liked and soon the frown was gone from his features. Softly their lips touched each other, gently sliding against the other's; Christophe's rough and bitten lips against Gregory's soft ones.

They parted for a minute, Gregory letting himself get flipped over to lie on the ground, even though he loathed the thought of dirt rubbing onto his back. Christophe hunched above him, straddling him with his legs at Gregory's both sides, keeping him firmly in place. Once again they kissed each other, not as gently this time, it was more like they pressed their lips together. Christophe stuck his tongue out to stroke it over Gregory's lips who obediently opened his mouth to stick his own tongue out. A smile grazed Christophe's face when he bit down on the blonde's tongue, not hard enough draw blood but enough to hurt. Gregory gasped in revelation as well as in pain as he pushed Christophe away from him, who only smirked down at him, but let go of the other's tongue.

"Don't get carried away. I'm the boss 'ere now and you're the beetch, got it?" he chuckled and bent down to kiss him again. Gregory accepted him to lean down, but as soon as he got the chance to he bit Christophe's bottom lip.

"I don't think so pretty boy. I'm sure I can make you my _'beetch'_ in just a couple of moments," he said, declaring yet another war between the Brit and the French. The dark haired man grinned widely, showing his upper row of teeth as he accepted the new fight between them. Both were pretty confident in winning.

In a moment of flash Christophe had torn Gregory's shirt apart, leaving a bare and clearly annoyed Gregory to watch his favorite shirt being torn into shreds. This only stimulated Gregory to fight back with more passion, something Christophe expected from him and secretly enjoyed. Gregory took a hold of the Mole's dark hair, pulling it while he kissed the other roughly. Christophe responded to Gregory's actions with a forceful tongue inside the other's mouth and rough hands moving not to gently over his bare skin. This made Gregory only kiss back with more lust and desire. His breathing became more rapid and he gasped every once in a while.

Oh, how much Christophe enjoyed to see Gregory like this, flushed, on the verge of panting and pressed against him. It made him want to punch the Brit for making him feel this way, but there was also the urge and temptation to kiss him deeper than he'd ever done.

They parted, only to let Christophe pull off his own shirt and throwing it away somewhere on the ground. He didn't care for a moment where it landed or if anyone was around - which was highly unbelievable noting that Christophe had made sure he pulled a bothered Gregory away somewhere he knew they wouldn't be disturbed - nor could he think straight with all his blood rushing down through his body like in panic.

Beneath him Gregory smirked and chuckled. Christophe wrinkled his nose in disgust and raised an eyebrow; he didn't want the Brit to laugh at him like he was in charge, because he wasn't!

"W'at the fuck is it now?" he snarled under his breath, which was as unkempt as Gregory's, he found out.

"You look so hot right now, you know? With those rosy and flushed cheeks, tousled hair and shirtless. My, my, are you trying to make me fall for you? It certainly would explain why you always drag me away to… 'have a fight', so to say" Gregory chuckled, raising a hand as to cover his mouth. "If I didn't know better I'd think you are developing a crush on me," he said huskily and his hands stroke his dark curls.

"Can you never shut up? You talk too much," replied Christophe. His rough hands moving down on Gregory's body teasingly. This made Gregory twitch somewhat in pleasure and lick his lips.

"You asked me, I answered you," he smirked and pulled Christophe into another steaming kiss.

…

Later they lay on the ground, both exhausted. Their torsos was bare, the shirts thrown away out of range of reaching them without getting up and none really wanted to, however they did have the decency to put their pants back on again. Christophe lay on his side, with his back facing Gregory.

The said blonde smiled in secret and moved closer to Christophe, stroking a hand across his scarred back, which was now dirty with mud and some grass. His fingers softly touched his shoulders and slid down along with his spine. Christophe shuddered, which made Gregory only smile wider. It was so much fun teasing him.

The Mole turned around to face Gregory and lay on his other side, and for a second Gregory thought they were going at it again, that until Christophe slapped the his hand that had been touching him away.

"Don't touch me," Christophe mumbled under his breath. With a low chuckle, Gregory moved closer to his annoyed lover, cuddling into his non-existent embrace and ignoring the displeasing comment.

"I must say, Christophe, in all honesty I quite fancy you." The blonde said, still smiling, but softer now than before when teasing Christophe. When there came no reply from the French, Gregory buried his face into the other's chest, cheeks burning a little from embarrassment. He was not going to let Christophe of all people see him like this, so vulnerable.

"What is your answer to that, you jerk?" he asked after some minute of silence. Christophe reached for his cigarette-pack and cleared his throat while picking yet another cigarette out.

"Must you ruin everything?"

Gregory chuckled at this and Christophe lit yet another cigarette with a faint blush coloring his cheeks.


End file.
